


The Five Times That Erik and T'Challa Kissed (+1)

by deliriouslyshipping



Series: T'Cherik Drabbles [16]
Category: Black Panther (2018)
Genre: I am a basic, M/M, so enjoy this basic writing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-16
Updated: 2018-07-16
Packaged: 2019-06-11 07:28:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15310452
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deliriouslyshipping/pseuds/deliriouslyshipping
Summary: I am allowed one completely basic piece of writing.





	The Five Times That Erik and T'Challa Kissed (+1)

**Author's Note:**

> I am allowed one completely basic piece of writing.

 

1.

The first time, it completely throws T’Challa out of loop for hours. The two were arguing, just like they always do. Sometimes it was bad enough that T’Challa would think to himself if it was worth it to save his cousin’s life (which no matter what happens, it was worth it).

 

“You are infuriating, N’Jadaka.” T’Challa knew very well that nothing set his cousin off faster than the use of his Wakandan name. He watches, head high in pride, as Erik’s jaw clenches and unclenches, holding himself back from the destruction he knows that he can cause. 

 

“You’ve fucked up, cuz.” At any point in time, this useless quarrel can stop with the pressing of a bead, but some part of T’Challa enjoys this - the interaction between the two of them that has his blood rushing and his fingers twitching for action. 

 

“Have I?” Erik stalks towards him, features twisted into a hard expression, but T’Challa refuses to back down, to look away. Erik is in his face, his breath brush past his cheek. Rough fingers grip the nape of his neck, possibly enough to bruise, and T’Challa keeps his face neutral. 

 

Erik leans forward and places a kiss at corner of his mouth. T’Challa blinks, mind going completely blank. It distantly occurs that Erik says “you have,” before he knocks their shoulders together as he leaves the room. 

 

Another minute passes before he can stop trying to assess what had happened and move. 

 

2. 

 

The next time was out of formality. When Erik had officially considered himself a Wakandan (he technically had to, he had stayed for far too long) and a prince, he must address T’Challa in a much different manner in public. 

 

Of course, in private, it could range from “Sup T” to “you fucking bitch,” but when Erik was in front of Elders at a conference, things played a little differently. Erik strutted into the room, late as usual, but he held eye contact with T’Challa as he strutted up to the throne, grunting under his breath as he settled onto one knee, hand extended.

  

“I apologize for my lateness, my King.” T’Challa waves his hand, excusing him, and that should be all. It is not, not when Erik reaches out and grabs. T’Challa darts his eyes to the rest of the room, who is watching eagerly. Erik leans down further, pressing his lips to the ring. Their ring, the ones both of their father’s have worn, identical to one another. T’Challa swallows, tries to, but it feels more like a rock. 

 

Their eyes meet. Air becomes irrelevant, unnoticed, just like everything else in the room. Something punctures T’Challa, as if the sharp of Erik’s gaze has cut him somehow. 

 

Erik rises, then, and ambles to his seat as if nothing happened. The room whispers briefly to each other until T’Challa fakes a cough, directing the attention to the much more serious matters at hand. 

 

3. 

 

Accidents happen. Almost-kisses happen, right? 

 

Erik surprised him with his presence. He had been working nonstop on paperwork for his international and domestic functions. His brain is fried and his eyes burn. He knows that it is far too late and Shuri had already scolded him to get some rest. 

 

T’Challa stands and walks to the window. Sprinkles of light shine from the buildings and he drowns in the blurriness of the light from his exhausted eyes. 

 

A hand touches his shoulder and he jumps out of his tired state, his fight or flight instinct kicking in. 

 

“Chill,” Erik puts his hands on the sides of his arms, holding his tense body in place. It hits suddenly of how close they are, how close their mouths are. T’Challa couldn’t of noticed at first, but now that his mind can function properly again, he knows that if he leaned forward in the slightest, their mouths would be touching, if they’re not touching already. They would be-

 

Erik lets go of him as if he had been shocked, looking away. 

 

“Shuri told me that I had to make you go to bed or she’ll release some video or something.” T’Challa sighs. 

 

“I would prefer if that video were not released, so I suppose I will go.” T’Challa leaves everything as is, already organized and prepared for another day, and Erik follows him. 

 

“What is the video, anyway?”

 

“A prank that Shuri played on me, right before you showed up.” Erik hums from behind him. They walk down the corridor together, given their rooms were on the same hall. 

“Imma ask to see it.”

 

“Please don’t,” and T’Challa turns his head slightly, only to see that his cousin is looking more towards the rear of his body than anywhere else. T’Challa ignores it for the sake of his lack of sleep (he was probably imagining it, anyway). They near T’Challa’s room and he slows his walk.

 

Finally, the King turns and they bump into each other, heads bumping. Erik releases a curse and T’Challa can feel his face heat up. Two times in one night.

 

“Goodnight, Erik,” and hurries to shut the door behind him. 

 

“Night, T.” T’Challa releases a breath he didn’t know that he was holding before stripping and falling onto his bed, rest welcoming him in ease.

 

4. 

 

“I told you not to fucking do it!”

 

“I did it for you!” It was a bad idea to bring Erik along. It was a horrible idea because when Erik slipped through his fingers and landed into the torture room of someone else, T’Challa almost lost it. Nothing else mattered than to get Erik back and find the bastard who was the cause of all of this.

 

The Black Panther was faced with the decision to save N’Jadaka or catch the man on the run. Respectfully, the Black Panther would’ve tried to perform both in one go, or at least disregard the injured person who can obviously last a little longer as he runs towards the escaping enemy. The rational part of him had already made the choice. Besides, if Erik didn’t have all of these weapons trained on him, they would probably all be dead anyway.  
  


Then Erik looks him right in the eyes and tells him to go. It makes the rational part of him become fuzzy and now it is not just an injured Wakandan. It is Erik. Battered and covered in varying shades of the colors of bruises and blood, Erik grits his teeth and narrows his eyes as he repeats himself. 

 

“Fucking hell, just go!” T’Challa can’t do it. He can’t leave him there and the hesitance in his movements show it. Erik shakes his head, despite the knife threatening to slice his skin and the gun pointed on his side. The Black Panther made his choice. 

 

“You should’ve just left me there. Even if I died, it would be worth something.” T’Challa examines his wounds quickly, seeing if he was even able to walk towards the airship. It doesn’t matter anyway, for Erik is rising on his own and limping his way out. 

 

“I would never have let you die, N’Jadaka.” Erik turns and T’Challa’s headpiece deactivates, hoping that the sincerity of his eyes match his voice, sure that is is equivalent. Yet Erik is angered. 

 

“I told you not to call me that.”

 

“I am so-” Erik threads his fingers in the tight curls of T’Challa’s hair. 

 

“Shut up! Goddamn it, T’Challa. You make it hard not to hate your guts sometimes.” 

 

“Wha-” Erik drives their lips together. T’Challa can taste the metallic tang of blood from Erik’s busted lip, but makes no effort to back away. He tilts his head and presses himself more into Erik carefully, but then Erik breaks the kiss and moves back inside of the place they just left. 

 

“What are you doing?” 

 

“The fucker has my ring!” T’Challa shakes his head and reactivates his helmet, catching up easily to the injured man as they retrieve N’Jobu’s ring from the pocket of one of the men. 

 

5. 

 

It takes five weeks for Erik to fully recover. In those give weeks, T’Challa found and unfortunately resulted to kill him, and then he completely ignores Erik for the remainder of the time. He supposes that it was the best option for both of them, Erik more than likely not meaning for their last encounter to happen and T’Challa refusing to come to the conclusion that he has these feelings towards his cousin that was never supposed to happen. 

 

That does not stop T’Challa from checking up on his cousin when he can, messaging his sister every couple of days for updates. 

 

“Why can’t you just see him for yourself?”

 

“I cannot. He needs his space,” T’Challa lies and he knows that Shuri sees right through it. 

 

“If anything, he needs you.” Shuri hangs up. Why is this so hard?

 

 He finds Erik at the mouth of Panther Rock, throwing small pieces of it off of the cliff. Erik turns his head and sees him, expression unreadable. 

 

“I apologize if I am intruding.”

 

“Nah, you’re fine.” Erik throws another rock and T’Challa walks a little closer. He does look a lot better. He looks like the event had never happened. 

 

“Do you ever think about it?” Erik asks, looking up to his face. The heat of the stare threatens T’Challa to look away. He doesn’t.

 

“Think about what?” Erik rises to his feet.

 

“This is the second time you had saved me even though I deliberately told you to let me die.” 

 

“I-”

 

“You must be out of your damn mind,” Erik growls, wrapping a hand around T’Challa’s throat, “you never listen, do you? Why save me? Why?” T’Challa can’t find the words, can’t explain why he went out of his way twice to save him. The answer comes to him like waves crashing. 

 

The sky turns into a beautiful hue of red as T’Challa wraps his finger around the necklace with their rings. The grip on his neck retreats. As he looks into Erik’s eyes, he pulls the necklace. Their mouths connect and T’Challa’s grip tightens as he risks pulling him closer, to make him react. 

 

Erik does, wrapping his arms to the low of his back and the nape of his neck. Although he couldn’t say the words, his mouth still told the truth. 

 

He may be, explicitly, in love. 

 

They part to catch their breath. 

 

“I couldn’t find the words,” T’Challa explains, receiving a breathy laugh in response before they kiss once more. 

 

+1

 

“Five years and you still can’t beat me!” T’Challa rolls his eyes, cut short as he dodges another attack. 

 

“I believe I put the knife in your chest.’ 

 

“That doesn’t count,” Erik decides and T’Challa doesn’t wish to fight over it, especially if it is distracting to this. 

 

“Sure.” T’Challa slides his foot across the ground, knocking Erik down and he rolls to secure the broken staff under his chin. Erik grunts, defeated, but is smiling.

 

“I think I love you, T.” T’Challa drops the staff with another eye roll and helps his man to his feet. He brushes the wrinkles off of his shirt, smirking, then tackles T’Challa to the ground. 

 

“That is cheating!” T’Challa makes minimal effort to release himself from the holds of Erik, allowing the other man to settle himself between his legs. 

 

“Another win for me,” Erik teases as he leans down. The heat of their bodies mix and T’Challa wraps his legs for added effect. 

 

“Brother, I- I surely hope you two are not about to do the dirty on the floor.” T’Challa looks up, finding his sister at the doorway with her eyes covered. 

 

“No I was hoping to go to your room,” Erik replies, laughing at the horrified look on her face. 

 

“I have another upgrade for you, but I suppose I will wait. I’m going to leave and drop acid in my eyes. Bye.” Shuri gags and mutters words under her breath as she leaves.

 

“Was that necessary?” T’Challa sits up and Erik shrugs. 

 

“I’m going to see what Shuri has come up with this time.” N’Jadaka does not make a move to follow him, but it does not hurt his feelings whatsoever. 

 

“You’re just going because you don’t want to get your ass kicked again.” T’Challa makes it to the door before he replies. 

 

“No, I’m going so I do not kick your ass.. N’Jadaka.” 

 

“Fucker!” T’Challa blows a kiss as he exits.


End file.
